Rain
by Drunkie
Summary: Must be the rain. The stupid, hideous rain.


I know I said I'd give you a happy one, Yammy. BUT I CAN'T THINK OF ONE. :D

Happy very belated birthday. :]

* * *

His hands were shoved crudely in his pockets, biting his lip against the wind and the rain.

It was so cliche, it to be raining on a funeral. He hated cliches.

He stared at the blur of black, wondering why he couldn't decipher her family and friends from this lifeless, ugly, blob.

He wiped his eyes.

Must be the rain. The stupid, hideous rain.

He didn't understand why she loved the rain so much. Why did she, the sun and the cloudless sky, love the rain?

Why did she admire it, say that you couldn't have flowers without it, dance in it?

Why did she tug on his hand, telling him to enjoy it with her...

And why did he actually savor it?

And why did he hate it so much now?

He glanced back at what had been a blur, looking for her father. Her father had a broken look on his face, one that could match his own.

He was holding an umbrella, a black umbrella, the one Sasuke gave to him when he saw he didn't have one.

Maybe it would've been better if he hadn't given it to him. Sasuke wouldn't have had to have seen his eyes.

They were the same brilliant blue.

But they were lifeless. As if he had already died.

And when he saw it, it sent a cold shock through him, a rush of nostalgia and a rush of pain, as the memory of her eyes losing their life enveloped him, much like the way a grey wave of water swallowed the shore.

Inochi faded back to the black blur, and Sasuke wiped the warm rain from his eyes, looking at the brown coffin.

It was closed.

It would've been closed because of the rain, but it wasn't because of that. It was closed at the viewing as well.

It was just too brutal, wasn't it?

No one wanted to look at broken porcelain. Not even Ino. When a porcelain vase fell, she swept it away and hid it, not wanting to be reminded of her loss.

And that's what they were doing.

But he wanted to see her. Despite the scars that marred her skin and the knowledge her eyes were not going to open...

He wanted to see her.

He was standing, still, not joining the black blur. They were sitting, ignoring the rain that dripped through the cracks above them.

Maybe he should join them.

But he didn't, though he willed his legs to move. Maybe they were willed to do so too halfheartedly.

It was alright. He would stay. Although Naruto, the Hokage, and Tsunade alike had offered him their spot in front, he denied them.

He believed he didn't have a right to sit with the others. He didn't even think he was worthy of standing behind the last row of chairs.

Because it was his last hit that broke her, his hand that knocked over the vase.

And there she lay. There she lay.

They offered him a rose to lay on her coffin.

He refused, knowing he'd be tempted to open the coffin, expose her face to the rain she loved so much and the rain he now hated and the rain falling warm from his eyes and on to his cheeks and made everyone he knew unrecognizable...

And he couldn't do that.

He found that he wasn't standing, wondering when it was that his knees betrayed him and fell unto the soft earth, mud on his knees.

Naruto and Hinata looked at him with worry, and he ignored their stares, his hand wiping the tears away without any permission from him, even though he knew he could continue to pretend it was rain.

They began to lower the coffin and he walked away, walking home.

* * *

He opened the door.

"Uchiha."

The last Yamanaka looked at the boy who had just answered the door.

He peered inside, past the Uchiha, noticing it looked different from his previous visits. He could see a tie and mudsoaked pants thrown over the couch, two broken frames on the floor, a kunai piercing through the wall, a large crack starting from it.

Sasuke gave him a sad smile.

"It's Uchiha again. I suppose it'd be wrong of me to let you stand there in the cold."

He stepped back, allowing Inochi in. Inochi noticed the vulnerability in his eyes, the slump of his shoulders...

And he _hated _it. He despised it.

He wanted to crush him. How could he crush something that was already gone?

Sasuke waited for the inevitable question he knew Inochi would ask.

"How could you?" he asked him.

Sasuke grabbed his clothes off of the couch, dumping into the laundry room. He picked up the pieces of glass, placing them on the shelf, saving the picture that was once inside it.

"Take a seat."

"How _could _you?"

Sasuke ripped the picture he was holding in half.

"Here. This was my favorite picture of her."

Inochi took it, not wanting to look at it. He watched Sasuke rip up the other half and drop the pieces to the floor, noticing half of the Uchiha's face, a smiling face, on the floor.

He looked at the half Sasuke had given him, not noticing Sasuke going to the kitchen, pouring drinks for the two of them.

It was that picture. He himself had taken the picture for the two.

She looked so happy.

Tears blurred his vision as his grip on the paper bent it.

Sasuke walked in with two cups of rum.

"I know your favorite is vodka but I drank it all yesterday. I'm sorry."

"How could you, _Uchiha_?"

The unfamiliarity that came along with the use of his last name stung.

"You weren't there."

"That doesn't matter. How could you take her away from me?" he demanded violently, standing up, the rum in his cup spilling all over the floor.

"You don't understand." There was weakness in his voice. Inochi felt as horrible for the boy as he did himself, but he _hated _the weakness. He hated it. He wanted him to be cold and aloof but all he was doing was making his own anger weak.

"You don't understand," he repeated breathlessly, shaking his head, Inochi not sure that the boy could see him. His eyes looked haunted, painful.

Weak.

He hated the weakness because he wanted to hate him. He wanted to break him but there was nothing to break.

Desperately, he tried to find a point at which the Uchiha was still intact, and ruin that. He needed to blame someone. He needed to be angry.

"How could I not understand? You were the one who delivered the last blow. What is there to understand?" He asked, pointing accusingly at Uchiha, the boy who was once a man, a man he had once called son.

Sasuke closed his eyes and looked down.

Why would he not fight back? Why was he acting like this? Why couldn't he give him a reason to hate him?

"Why couldn't you just take her to the hospital?"

He opened his eyes.

"She wouldn't have made it."

"Don't you think that maybe if you had tried, she would've made it? She'd be in the hospital right now, and she would've made it? We'd be visiting her and laughing and would plan to maybe push back the wedding date. She'd be awake and alive and happy and so would you and I! Maybe she would've had a quick recovery and she'd be here right now! She'd have walked away with a only few injuries and she'd be sitting beside me on the couch and you'd be on the other side and you'd have your hand on her waist, like you always do and--"

He was cut off by the shattering of glass on the wall behind him.

"_Stop_." He looked at the Uchiha and saw his eyes ablaze.

"_Stop_," he said again, the shudder in his voice heard the very last second. His quickened breathing began to slow down.

"I said _she wouldn't have made it__,_" he said through gritted teeth.

"How do you know she wouldn't have made it? You have no medical expertise, do you?" he spat out bitterly.

"Don't you think that maybe bringing her to the hospital was the first and _only_ thing I wanted to do?" he spat back.

"How do you know?" Inochi said, no longer a question but a statement. He ignored Sasuke's last words, though the way he had said them carved a hole in his chest, only to realize what was there was gone.

Sasuke sighed.

"She told me."

He paused.

"And I believe everything she says." He closed his eyes, remembering how she had begged for him to take her life...how she couldn't stand the pain, telling him that it'd be useless for her to be brought to the hospital. She said she'd be anyway dead and would have to go through all the pain during the long journey home.

She pleaded, eyes telling him of the pain she had spoken of. She told him she was even too weak to do it herself. She told him this was her last fight.

He knew she never gave up. For _her_, the strongest person he knew and would ever know, to say this...she had to be a lost hope.

One last plea, one last declaration of love...

And with one calculated hit, it was over.

He opened his eyes, looking at the man in front of him, knowing Inochi was searching him, with the brilliant blue eyes Ino possessed. Inochi looked at him and saw he was more broken than before. Wasn't that what he wanted? Why is it he wanted to comfort Sasuke, the boy who had taken Ino's breath away? Why was he not triumphant? Why--

"Don't you?" Sasuke with a look in his eyes that begged him to understand.

Why...why did he feel broken too?


End file.
